


little things

by Liryczna



Category: Shards of the Sun
Genre: Drabble Series, Gen, Just All Of Them, M/M, Multi, all of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liryczna/pseuds/Liryczna
Summary: Snapshots of their lives.





	

The disembodied voice follows Cosimo for days before he agrees to listen to its claims. Even tired, he knows a bad idea when he sees it, but there is no harm in hearing the offer. By now his head is killing him anyway, and his heart hurts, the complete disaster of what happened on the other side of his ring a secret. He is worried, it makes him desperate. 

"I can give you a way to go," the voice sweetly whispers into his ear, "a spell to keep the city in the air and a way to travel, unseen and quick."

"Tell me everything about this bargain," he finally says. "Every single detail you might want to omit to stay ahead of the game, everything you wanted to use in order to trick me. If you gloss over anything or I misunderstand, the contract will be null and void. Do you understand? Tell me the whole price and then I will listen."

"Master Rezi, a powerful mage like yourself," the voice almost purrs, "how do you feel about slaying gods by your hands?"

 

***

 

They tell him that a master is like a father, and Cosimo can see the resemblance in his life well, both men spineless cowards and assholes he would gladly forget about any day. Ser Vallen has good moments, glimpses of sanity when he pretends to care, and then jokes with them or even helps. Fyr gets caught up in those brief respites. They pass quickly, as everything does in the Underdark, and Cosimo cultivates his hate. He realizes his words are a death sentence when he smiles at Fyr's and Flick's mother and offhandedly tells her the last name from his list. But even killing him would be too personal, and Cosimo wants nothing to do with that man. 

 

(It is seeing Steffit that changes his mind, all cold fury and edges because someone dared to make one of his children cry. He knows that Vallen would laugh, even if Fyr was hurt or dying, if both of them were. Once, it seemed like a reassurance. Cosimo doubts his own father would even turn his head to look.)

 

***

 

Leo wonders who will braid Cyn's hair when she is gone. Fyr, maybe? He has been training on his own, pulling them back in an increasingly competent braid, and Leo is still a bit helpless. He worries about it, a little thing, but he likes the ritual they have. What will he do with his mornings now? Draw, maybe make something, or go... no. Maybe he will make her something during that time, a hairclip or a ribbon, or maybe... no. There are so many things he does not know. 

Leo waits. 

 

***

 

It is Prokopis’ fault.

It is not intentional, just a bad coincidence that he got stuck under Steffit’s legs at a very bad moment, when once in a blue moon he had taken his shoes off while working, and forced him to take a step left, right into the table’s leg.

As Steffit tries not to cry from the sharp sting of pain, Prokopis urgently mews his apologies in remorse, and jumps on his seat, right before Steffit steps backs and sits on it.

In the end they agree to forgive and forget. 

 

***

 

When Oswald finally reappears from his room – or rather not at all his room – and finds Cosimo drinking wine in the empty library in the middle of the night, he immediately snorts.

“A bad day?”Oswald asks, and sits at the opposite side of the table. He is still a bit ruffled, and there is no way that the clothes in which he arrived were in quite so bad a state, but Cosimo does not comment. He sighs instead.

“Yes, well, I’ve been here for thirty minutes questioning my life choices. How have you two been feeling?”

“Better,” the Prince answers. “Too busy making those life choices to care.”

“Ah,” Cosimo pours him a glass of wine and smiles. “Congratulations, then. We haven’t really kept in touch, lately. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“If you don’t mind, I would rather get at least a little bit drunk. We all almost died during a ball.”

“Yeah, getting drunk seems like a good idea.”

When Oswald drinks, he almost swallows the entire glass at once. Stressed might not be the right word here.

“Cosimo? Thanks for taking us in. I know it will mean trouble when Cornelia finds out.”

“Anytime, cousin.“ Cosimo smiles, and Oswald answers in kind. “I will always do my best to help.”

 

***

 

Only once, Ivia thinks that maybe if she was good enough, Fyr would stay. It is a silly thought, one born from fear, and she cannot help it, but it makes her feel sick. It is not her fault, and not his either, that is just how the world works sometimes. She knows he would stay if he could, and dreams of Fyr returning, bathed in the blood of his foes, smiling. 

 

She believes him when Fyr promises to be back. 

 

(They all forget way too often, she thinks as they sit around the table in Nimbohr, laughing and talking in equal measures. They all close their eyes to the fact that paladins are not supposed to be nice and the only mercy that comes from them is the edge of a sword and the burning light of the sun that devours darkness. Being kind is a choice, one Fyr and Cosimo were not supposed to make.)

 

***

 

"I was joking when I said I wanted champagne," Corellon tells him the moment he enters and catches the sight of the dinner, perfect and ready, with the plate of cookies left on the side. And champagne, of course, cooling by the table. Garl always cooks, that is true, and annoyed he cooks even more, filling the table with dishes, especially those that take a long time to prepare. There is something calming in the process of cooking, one thing he always has a complete control over, unlike the rest of his life. He gives food to others, eats it, and invents new things, new combinations and tastes, but when he is worried... there is nothing but emptiness in his head. Nil's recipe is a gift from heaven, or the other way round in this case, and he starts from there: strawberries and chocolate are the first step.

"Joke or not, your wish is my command," Garl says, so cheesy that it makes even him cringe. Maybe he really needs help. "I'm sorry for before," he adds. 

Corellon smiles at him, sits by the table and they spend the evening not watching the mortals struggling below, but focused on each other, for once. Garl makes a mental note to thank Nil in a very subtle way, soon. Maybe some candy will do. 

 

***

 

"And then I said 'how did the celebration go,' and that might have been a mistake," says Oswald and falls into the bed. Albany tries not to facepalm and fails. "Leo was really excited, though, and they were clearly holding hands, so it had to go well!"

"Yeah, you might have just destroyed their date, but apart from that? All is great!"

"Destroyed?" Oswald turns to look at him, all disheveled and sleepy. And increasingly worried. "Why?"

"What are the chances that Leo asked Nil out on a date?"

"Well... Ah, damn, I really said something wrong, didn't I?"

Albany just snorts. 

"They will deal with it, somehow. At least the first date is still before them?"

Oswald turns the blankets into a cocoon again and closes his eyes. He looks worried, and Albany considers the brutal way of life. He found a new cause to mull over, of course. 

"Leo was happy, you know, I'm  glad. And Nil..." He rolls himself onto the side and wiggles to get closer to Albany when he passive-aggressively stays on his side of the bed. "He looked fine today."

 

***

 

They find Cosimo sitting on the floor in the middle of the hall, listening patiently to the mrows and meows as Prokopis paces, tail aimed at the ceiling. Cosimo nods, then asks a general question: where, when, how many? Then he gets up, and walks after the cat into the workshop, careful not to hit his head on the door. Oswald and Albany look from the doorstep, interested enough in what is happening, and see the way Cosimo bends over to greet the small chicks one by one, ignoring the people who stopped working to look at the intruder. Prokopis, like a proud father, still meows in the background. There is a sudden attack at his hand, and Cosimo says, seconds away from laughing until he cries:

"Yes, hello, I've heard you were named after my name, Cosma, nice to know that you want to kill me first thing in the morning. I appreciate your spirit."

Prokopis meows. 

 

***

 

Albany does not mind Kavius at first. He is not particularly annoying, and having a new person in their midst helps relieve at least some tension. Oswald has a new direction, somebody who does not mind being pampered. He should know that it was going to end like this: with Oswald bruised, his hand ignored as he reaches out, his name given freely and declined. He gives Oswald out to Flick the moment it is possible to interrupt their conversation, saying it under his breath. Flick hears his every word. She is flushed one second, and deadly pale the next, and he knows she understands. This... This is something they have to learn to live with, the restlessness and knowledge that one day they might be not enough or too late. 

It is a bad day for all of them, but he is grateful when Oswald breaks in Flick's hands, later. The fractured bone finally set, they can start to heal. 

(Kavius is a problem for another day.)


End file.
